


Body, Heart & Soul Made Of Gold

by Kittaebrat



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Midas and the Golden Touch (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Midas touch au, No Romance, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader-Insert, Updates every 3-4 weeks, alternative universe, only friendships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25903225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittaebrat/pseuds/Kittaebrat
Summary: Golden flowers, golden ribbons of sunlight, and more gold spilling from their fingertips. Can this child survive the curse placed upon them as they trudge through the depths of the Underground?-Disclaimer: I don't own UNDERTALE. UNDERTALE belongs to Toby Fox and to the rest of the genius artists who worked on it. I only own the idea and writing of this story. No plagiarizing, copying, paraphrasing, or repost of this story will be allowed or taken lightly.-
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

It started with dirt yet ended with gold, the void shining at the bottom of the pit was calling to them like the Moon's pull.

A song to sing. A hymn to chant.

The youngling standing on the edge begins to fall deeper.

And deeper.

And deeper.

Into the Underground, a place that is unknown.

Monsters surround them but they'll still shine like gold.

Sorrow drips from the metal like the purest element.

Deeper into the pit they go.


	2. The Bginning

Crusted gold and rippling blood, the wound drips its essence onto the flowers beneath it, a metallic red gleaming on the petals and buds. She wakes from the fall with the Sun alone to greet her, its forms smaller and farther than she remembers it to be. However, she'll have to forget what she remembers, for she is no longer on the surface, jumping into the void to escape her mistake only to commit another deep down in the Underground.

She sits up in the patch of golden buttercups, their breaths eternally still from the moment she touched them. The light cast upon her was warm against the gold and warmer against her skin, the small patches of skin turned metal minuscule as freckles for afar.

The villagers thought she was an orphaned witch, an untouchable golden crown of sharp vines laying on her tresses and eyes an unnatural yellow-like amber colour that are akin to that of a feline’s. Alabaster trees began to grow around the village, an oddity during the Winter months that they blamed on her.

They were normal trees; nothing was out of the ordinary other than the pale white bark they showed off pride. However, the superstitious village had no hesitation to blame her for the phenomenon. The men of the village took to their axes and cut them all. One-by-one, they were burnt to ash and dust.

Feeling bitter and heartbroken, she lashed out against the men who held her back from stopping the fires, her small size nothing compared to the strength of multiple men. The villagers gave her no heed as the whitebark erupted in flames to form black, the women and children passively watching the destruction of such beautiful non-sentient beings.

When the smoke and flames settled, she was dropped to the ground and left alone with the black ground while the villagers returned to their homes with a scheme building in their minds.

Fear and anger flashed across their faces as the gold spontaneously spilt from her fingers to seep into the items she happened to be touching. The gold would entrap it and suffocate its colours, the liquid metal wrapping around the surface and sinking in like a second layer of skin. All the special and unique details that make a flower a flower fading away to be left with a hollow shell of shining yellow starlight sparkling in its place.

This curse stole her ability to eat and enjoy the feeling of somebody’s touch on her skin, the memories of her deceased parents painfully vivid in her mind at the thought of their warmth or gentle voices. The way her mother used to bake her favourite biscuits and her father would take her out with him to collect firewood for the cold winter nights before the house was burnt down to a pile of ash and dust.

She was sure that the ember that started it all was sparked by the villagers, an eager look in their eyes to rid their village of outsiders. She should’ve known it wasn’t a natural disaster of some sort, the way the blacksmith looked proud of the occurrence, a man utterly satisfied with his work and hidden techniques.

Only a few offered their hollow condolences for the lost family before they continued carrying out their tasks and days without looking back, her family in shock and disbelief.

It is then when everything went spiralling down. Her mother somehow found a magic-user still possessing the secrets of the olden days deep within the forest, her voice causing tremors to run up and down her mother’s spine all day. She still doesn’t know what deal her mother and the woman had made. She only knew that once her parents took her to meet the old woman that offered her an acrid purple drink that tastes like rotten milk, she started to notice her parents getting more sick and tired.

The lack of sufficient sleep and good food was costing them their youth that was seeping away with each passing day. One day, they stopped breathing. It came as no surprise to her but the reality of it still struck her hard.

That’s when the curse started to reveal itself.

"Midas Touch", the villagers called it, her mind ringing with their calls like the bells that rang every sunrise. Fear and anger flashing across their faces.

The villagers took longer to plan their scheme, the trees beginning to sprout at that time. Pitchforks and torches in the dark woke her up. They were loud and angry, fury in their blood and sweat. They were definitely not subtle.

Up the mountain, she ran in her rags and bare feet, the vines on the ground growing thicker and thicker with every passing second. At first, her plan was only to run away from the mob, their yells and shouts loud in the echoing night. Stems and rocks hanging from the edge, she looks up at the beautiful gleaming moon, it’s reflected rays of light shining down on her like the missing heavens above.

Into the pit, she jumped. On the patch of golden flowers, she awakens.


	3. Petals

She didn't know for how long she stood there under the ethereal beam of golden light that shined upon her. The golden buttercups a true gold as they stood still in the dark and treacherous underground tunnel, the simplest sounds of whistling birds so far away yet echoing close to her ears. Was home truly nearby or was she forsaken to a path of danger for eternity? Will she suffer the fate of death that will keep her in the clutches of pain for how long the reaper deems rightfully so?

A small humming voice seems to break through the serene sounds of the upper world, the little springing tune feeling jolly and bright. It prompts her to climb to her knees, the fabric of her pants a little ripped from her long fall. She pats the dust and crumbles of soil off of her body before she walks deeper into the tunnel. She leaves behind the light to be the only remaining company to the flowers.

The humming came to a stop after a moment when she passed through an archway, the rocks seemed to change colours with every step she took. The regular brown and black stones became a light fuschia colour while the ground started to flatten out and smoothen. She noticed how the walls were covered in spider webs, the ground only covered in a light layer of dust as if a person was taking care of this place and got too busy to come here.

It all came to a stop when she spotted another patch of grass with a single healthy buttercup staring up at the sunlight gazing down upon it, its stance a little awkward with the way it seemed to curve around nothing but itself.

She approaches the flower, it’s middle tilting forward and revealing a pale marigold yellow face with a bright smile on it. A gasp escaped her lips once she saw it open its mouth and its eyes widening with it, the stem barren of leaves and small signs of roots. It began to speak to her.

“Howdy! I’m Flowey. Flowey the Flower!”, said Flowey the flower, a chuckle bouncing off of his stem with a laugh. His beady black eyes scan her form, his tiny body tilting up and down to take a good look at her. He hummed in consideration before it spoke again.

“You’re new to the Underground, aren’tcha?” Flowey’s face brightened in realisation, his eyes almost disappearing from his smile. A smile a tad too wide and happy to be real. A familiar one she has seen many times in the village. Danger is not far with this flower, as ridiculous as that thought seems…

“Golly, you must be so confused,” his voice pressured on the words ‘so confused’ while he rolled his eyes.

“Someone ought to teach you how things work around here! That would be me of course!”

Before she could release her words of protest, a force of unknown origin pulled her closer to the flower, her hands pulled to her sides and her body standing still. She was so much taller than the flower before her yet she never felt so small as she did when it smiled into her eyes with its black beads.

The unknown force returned in the most unexpected way when she felt it pull something out of her, a pulsing purple heart ripped from her chest was then floating mid-air before them. Her arms broke free and she proceeded to hold her chest, the way her body felt hollow under her ribs and her breathing heavier with every take.

“What are you doing? Leave me alone!” She screamed, her voice echoed back and forth in the empty halls of the Underground. She fell with her arms behind her as support, the mouth on the flower now shifting to that of a strained one, it’s eyes more narrowed as the seconds ticked by.

“Someone ought to teach you proper manners,” he repeated with a smug smile before she felt the pull on her body once more.

“See that tiny little heart over here? That’s your _soul,_ ” his eyes eerily looked down on her as he grew taller and taller with spikes accompanying his stem, ”It’s the very culmination of your being!”

He continued to chatter away to himself like it was a tea party, his face back to the first unsettling grin that kept his eyes closed.

“Your _soul_ starts off weak, but can grow strong if you gain a-”

A scream echoes in the archaic area, the pain in the voice so strong and real she can feel it in her bones.

_“My petal! What’s happening to me?!”_

He looked down at himself and saw her hand holding his petal that slowly but surely became encased in gold, the metal shimmering blindingly and bright under the golden ribbons of light. It kept getting heavier and heavier until the angry buttercup pulled it off with his teeth before it could reach the rest of his face.

“You little pathetic human, you know what’s happening here, don’t you?” Flowey sneered in utmost anger and rage, his face morphing into a hideous expression of something purely spiteful and hideous.

_“Die.”_

A larger number of floating bullets magically appeared, their forms spinning and turning faster and faster. They kept getting closer with every diabolically demonic laugh he gave, the circle they formed around her getting smaller by the second before they suddenly vanished.

The girl and the flower look at each other in shock, their eyes wide in disbelief but for different reasons.

“You little witch! I’ll get your-” he was interrupted by a blazing ball of fire, his screams echoing once more in the large chamber they existed in until he disappeared like the green patch of grass that became a black spot on the ground.

Y/n pulled away from the burnt grass, her heart somehow climbing up her throat yet her soul slowly floating back inside her chest and behind her ribs where it belonged. With her body on the verge of passing out from the fear and panic, she looks up to the sound of a sweet and homely voice calling to her softly.

“My child, are you alright?”


End file.
